


One Spoopy Night

by justbreathe



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Gen, M/M, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-06
Updated: 2013-10-06
Packaged: 2017-12-28 15:57:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,073
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/993789
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justbreathe/pseuds/justbreathe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hannibal Halloweeny silliness.</p>
            </blockquote>





	One Spoopy Night

**Author's Note:**

> Because there wasn't enough Hannibal in my life.

The sign said "Spoopy".

There was no denying, circumventing, or excusing it. The cheap molded plastic had been distastefully arranged into bony hands and a few haphazard representations of what might have passed as femurs, and a large caricature of a spider drooped from a single black thread to one side.

The sign said _"Spoopy"._

"Hannibal!" Will's voice was soft across the building, nearly lost under the sound of animatronic motors, metallic pitched-down laughter, and the soft murmurs of the young man and woman browsing oversexualised couple costumes together. Hannibal straightened his back and took his time tearing his gaze away from the sign. Immediately, Will's hand waving in the air caught his attention, the bright smile on his face the next blow to his resolve as he carefully quieted the desire to turn around and walk out and made his way further into the store.

"Look at this," he enthused the second Hannibal was close enough to hear him. "It's a bag of bones." One of the monstrous things was already in his hand, and he rattled it, a netted sack of heavy plastic molded human bones. Hannibal had to admit they were surprisingly realistic, and briefly he contemplated how well Will seemed to handle the store itself. Surrounding the item on the rack were several realistic severed limbs and a collection of less than satisfactory skulls. They were remarkably small. Hannibal schooled back a frown.

"Sourpuss." Apparently not quickly enough. Will took the bag of bones with him when he brushed his way past Hannibal and beelined for one of the more elaborate animatronics, a young, tattered girl rising from a gravestone. She croaked pleas for her mother as she was pulled from the dirt, and then jumped up suddenly with a scream and illuminated eyes. Will startled slightly and then laughed uproariously at it. Hannibal shuffled his way over to the prosthetics.

When Will caught up to him again, he had acquired a basket, which rest in the crook of his arm and was overflowing with decorations. Hannibal had taken to examining with genuine interest the different types of theatrical blood the shop carried, and Will didn't interrupt him, only came to stand by him and peer at the setup, which contained among other things a lamp that bled when turned on. Will placed the small object in his basket, next to a fuzzy black and purple hanging bat and, Hannibal noticed with chagrin, the "Spoopy" sign.

"Got it at discount," Will said, and Hannibal could hear the grin he was hiding. He set down the litre of blood with measured slowness and gave a pointed look to his watch.

"I hate to rush this, Will, but I must remind you that I have an appointment at four o' clock which I cannot miss."

"Right, right, come on then," Will stated, sounding only slightly offput. He was still smiling, albeit softly now, and his stride was long and sure as he led Hannibal to the costume section.

"Is this really necessary?" Hannibal asked once he was sure they were out of earshot of the cashiers. Will had crouched to examine an embarrassingly naive set of cowboy-and-indian costumes.

"One cheap costume. You agreed to the terms." He looked up at Hannibal, and even from his vantage point the look made Hannibal want to bare his teeth at him. "Are you saying you want to back out?" In lieu of a response, Hannibal checked himself for a second, and then tilted his head just slightly and gave Will a passing smile before turning to assess the wares on the opposite wall. Will watched him for a long, dark moment before rising.

"Do you think a cop and robber theme would be too much?" An immature attempt at backlash which Hannibal chose to ignore. Instead, he plucked a costume from its rack with exaggerated swiftness. He flashed it, and Will's eyebrows disappeared behind his hair. "Are you serious?"

"It's not cops and robbers." Will made a waggling motion with his head which was either a concession or an agreement. He accepted the packet with some reluctance, and Hannibal danced around the corner to garner them a set of accessories.

It took Will three days to make their home "presentable". "Gaudy" was a better word for it, but Hannibal had, eventually, learned to appreciate Will's enthusiasm, if not the gesture itself. Lights and decorations liberally garnished their porch, and a set of small squash found a harvest home surrounding two artfully carved jack-o-lanterns. Hannibal had made sweets from their innards while Will sat at the kitchen island and carved a cursive "L" in one and "G" in the other. They lit up marvellously, one on either side of the porch, and Hannibal may have enjoyed coming home to the flicker of them the night of the thirtieth.

Will had made sure they were both free for the night itself, as best he could, and, at least at first, the world agreed with his plans. He'd run around the house with heavy footsteps, calling out to Hannibal every few minutes to "hurry up, they'll be there soon!" When Hannibal finally made his way down the stairs, he found Will in costume flitting back and forth between the dining room - where they'd set up for the event - and the front window. He halted seeing Hannibal's silhouette, however, and a smile crept onto his face.

"Okay," he conceded as Hannibal brushed a strand of wig hair out of his eyes, the pauldrons of his armour shifting with gentle tinny clicks. The outfit looked ridiculously good on him, much better worn than Will's. Both men sported belted cotton tunics and high boots, but where Will had opted for a simple tunic and trousers, Hannibal had insisted he not cut corners. With his outfit he wore a scimitar strapped to his hip, carefully chosen bits of armour, and a cloak over everything, not to mention the long wig that looked ridiculously natural on him. One gloved hand reached for Will's, and once given he bowed on it, a smirk gracing his eyes as what felt like a blush made its way up Will's neck.

The doorbell rang. Will snatched his hand away, cleared his throat, and threw the door open. If Hannibal smiled at the way he laughed to the children's called out "trick or treat!", he wouldn't need to excuse it. One night was enough of a concession.

**Author's Note:**

> I ended up making the pumpkins that year. Because who doesn't need Lecter-Graham pumpkins?


End file.
